


A Brushstroke Full Of Magic

by captain_sassy_socks



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Christmas, F/M, Humor, Shipmas 2020, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_sassy_socks/pseuds/captain_sassy_socks
Summary: During negotiations with the people of PWP-3XS, SG-1 has to participate in a ritual that involves ‘applying a sacred pattern onto one’s skin’.Reluctant, and due to Jack’s loose tongue, they resign themselves to their fate and find a way to enjoy Christmas far away from home.prompt: Christmas Day on PWP-3XS
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 20
Kudos: 82





	A Brushstroke Full Of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I tried a new POV, the commenting narrator. Therefore, you can expect an additional layer of sass, humor, and judgment.

Jack ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

SG-1 had been at it for ten days by now, but the negotiations between Earth and the inhabitants of PWP-3XS proved to be more complicated than expected. These people were highly spiritual, peaceful, technologically advanced in several areas, in possession of a considerable quantity of naquadah they didn’t need, and willing to trade with the genuine travelers.

Sam’s jaw dropped. “They require WHAT???”

All in all, it could have been a walk in the park if it weren’t for their regulated rituals, a compulsory, centuries-old dance to a melody only they heard. One false step, and everything started over. And Jack had already put his foot in his mouth once or twice with a harmless joke or sarcastic remark nobody had appreciated.

Teal’c arched his eyebrow in bafflement… or displeasure... the gesture was impossible to decipher.

But worst of all, it was Christmas, for crying out loud!!! They could have been home, drinking eggnog and exchanging gifts.

Calm and collected, Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and repeated, “One last act of faith to appease the spirits.”

“Which must involve body painting?” Sam’s voice hadn’t returned to normal yet and didn’t show any sign to do so in the nearest future.

“Applying a sacred pattern onto one’s skin by the guardians of the temple,” Daniel corrected with exaggerated emphasis.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Without this completing ritual, the negotiations will be nullified, and we go home empty-handed.” Not getting the desired reaction from Jack—or any at all—Daniel changed his tactics and appealed to his sense of duty, “How do you explain that to General Hammond?”

“That I protected the team,” Jack retorted.

“We do not need your protection, O’Neill. I’m willing to make the sacrifice for the greater good.”

Jack spun around and eyed Teal’c. “Really, T? Backstabbing me?”

“Sir,” Sam hesitated and pointed out, “a little paint on our skin in trade for naquadah seems a small price to pay.”

Daniel’s nod and Teal’c’s slight inclination of his head agreed with her assessment.

Jack scratched his chin. In principle, they were right. These friendly people didn’t pose a threat. The closest they came to being intruding was their obvious appreciation of the team’s physical fitness. Jack didn’t mind; he even relished in the attention he received from several women but objected with vehemence to a handful of brawny men stealing lewd glances at his Major throughout their stay.

No one was going to lay hands on her!

The words spilled faster from his mouth than his brain could phrase them. “Before I let someone molest Carter, I do it myself!”

In the subsequent silence, three pairs of eyes stared at him in a combination of incredulity and confusion.

“That came out wrong,” Jack cleared his throat and flapped his hand in a semi-circle through the air. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Daniel appeared to be as clueless as ever.

“Daniel,” Jack warned the younger man and left it at that. He entwined his fingers and propped himself on the gunstock of his weapon. “Tell them we participate on one condition. We paint each other.”

Daniel blinked and cautioned, “I doubt they agree to this. They specifically stated-”

Jack held up one finger. “Ack! Do your best, Danny.”

He had spoken. Either they accepted, or… honestly, nobody knew since Jack hadn’t thought that far ahead. A backup plan didn’t exist. Why should it when this version sounded brilliant and foolproof?

The impression lingered until the high priest explained the procedure and stressed the importance of the ceremony. Each participant received an outline of the other with extensive instructions. Everything was determined; the color spectrum, the thickness and length of the brushstroke, the clearance between each, even the sequence of application. Only if the spirits approved the result they could complete the negotiation process, or else the long hours talking, meditating, and being courteous had been wasted.

And that was how Sam and Jack found themselves locked in a room, stripped of their BDUs, and reminded not to screw it.

Easier said than done when the flickering candles in each corner cast the interior in a golden light, and the smell of orange, cinnamon, and other spices filled the air. Two life-size, color-coded depictions, which rather resembled sexless straw figures than anatomically correct humans, adorned one wall. A table with painting equipment and a single chair stood in the center. The spiritual aspect of the ritual dominated the scene and didn’t present an insurmountable problem.

Touching each other, however, was.

Reluctant to face the potentially dangerous situation they skidded toward, Jack diverted and complained, “Did Daniel mention anything about flimsy loincloth when I agreed?”

Sam shook her head. “No, sir.” Pointing to herself, she grumbled, “What shall I say? Look at me!”

Jack tried not to. The auburn, silky material barely covered her breasts, not to mention the tiny, triangular patch over her mound. Only three thin straps held the fabric together. In this outfit, she could easily make the cover of Sports Illustrated.

The alluring image burned itself into his mind for all eternity.

Intend to distract himself, Jack’s eyes ambled along the naked masonry until they landed on Sam again, who had moved to the templates in the meantime. He tried to focus on an invisible spot above her shoulder, but with each passing second, his resolve crumbled more and more until his gaze meandered over her athletic back toward her taut buttocks while she studied the instructions. She looked like a sculpture carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself, a fierce Amazon whose thighs could break in a horse or tame a man, an angel right out of one of his fantasies.

Much to his dismay, the ‘little’ Colonel delighted in these comparisons and stiffened. Jack clenched his teeth and plucked at his clothes to cover up his predicament. His eyes darted toward her to make sure she hadn’t noticed while he recited the names of all the Goa’uld System Lords he remembered.

Ba’al effectively killed his libido.

“Um,” Sam’s voice weaved itself into his relief, “do you wanna,... or… um… shall I...um.”

“Nonono,Carter,yougoahead,” he rushed and cringed at his choice of words. ‘Carter’ and ‘head’ in one sentence rekindled the flame of arousal. Ba’al couldn’t help this time. Jack had to bring in the big guns, Jacob Carter’s disapproving glare.

“Okay, I,” Sam coughed and suppressed the blush that gnawed at her skin,” start with… your back?”

“Excellent, brilliant, you’re a genius,” Jack said and swung around, facing away from her. His palm tried to subdue his residual excitement but failed spectacularly.

Behind him, Sam bathed in the sight of his broad shoulders, chiseled back, and toned calves. Sadly, his best asset remained hidden; still, her fingers itched. She closed her eyes for a second and drew a long, shaky breath into her lungs. Many nights had she fantasized about sinking her fingernails into his flesh while he slammed into her, hot, passionate, and untamed.

Startled, her eyes flew open, and she squeezed her thighs together. She had to rein in her vivid imagination, or the trade deal would never materialize. But how could she stay unaffected if the finest specimen on Earth stood a few feet away from her? At her mercy, at her disposal.

“S-sir?” Her voice trembled. “You need to-to scoot clo-closer.” God, how she wished the ground would open and swallow her.

Jack stared straight ahead and furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“The paint?” Sam pointed to her left in an unnecessary gesture.

Yeah, that made sense. Awkward, Jack shuffled backward until the chair hit his legs.

Sam gathered herself and examined the items on the table, two trays, each comprising three cans and brushes. The specification dictated gold, silver, and brown for him and yellow, orange, and blue for her. She picked up the designated batch, shoved the chair away with her foot, and stepped behind him.

When she lifted the brush, she took notice of the unusual consistency. Instead of a viscous paint, a powdery substance clung to the tip. Interesting. On the first stroke of silver along his neck, she observed how the particles seeped into his skin and began to twinkle.

Jack gasped, and the muscles in his shoulders tensed up.

Fascinating. His unexpected yet pleasing reaction aroused the scientist in her. With diligence and curiosity, she drew spiral figures and marveled as a shiver ran ahead of the lines. Engrossed in the task, Sam created a masterpiece, even though it had only little in common with the templates, before she kneeled down to proceed below the waistline. She pushed the annoying material upward and gaped at the enticing, firm flesh three inches away from her face. Wetting her lips, she contemplated whether or not to slide the tip of her tongue over one globe. Just once, just briefly. He wouldn’t even notice.

His buttocks flexed, and a soft moan that sounded suspiciously like “Carter” passed his lips.

The sweet praise wrapped itself around her and made her dizzy. With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she dipped the soft bristles into the silver can and marked him, **M-I-N-E.** She couldn’t have been more blatant.

In next to no time, Sam finished the legs. She didn’t care if she used the correct color, didn’t verify the patterns, just wanted to move on to a more tempting body part.

“That’s… not… a good idea.” Jack’s hand tried to intercept her as she glided in front of him.

She disagreed. It was a brilliant idea. The promising bulge beneath the coarse material called her name, and she almost drooled.

Their heated gaze met. “Um, it’s… not what you think.” The feeble lie convinced neither him nor her.

Sam raised an eyebrow as her hands traveled up his legs. She dared him to stop her, but his body had taken over control and locked the voice of reason in the last corner of his mind. The muscles underneath her fingertips quivered as she closed in on the belt buckle and loosened it with her deft fingers. The garment slid down and revealed his erection; long, curved upward, and excitedly twitching when she blew over the head.

Jack’s nostrils flared, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. A dream came true, Samantha Carter on her knees in front of him, eager to indulge him. Another spark or arousal thundered through his veins and made him throb.

Unperturbed, Sam sprinkled the golden powder on his lower abdomen and the nest of hair at the base. After all, a little festivity and certain traditions went with the holidays. Since she hadn’t had time to decorate a Christmas tree, she made sure something else was glittering.

“Carter,” Jack growled and leaned further into her touch, desperate to feel her mouth on him. His desire to claim her sizzled beneath the surface and heightened every sensation. The crackle of the burning candles echoed off the walls, and the heady aroma of vanilla and cardamom lodged itself in his nose. For a second, he wondered if the dust contained an alien drug but decided not to care when her talented fingers fondled his balls.

Mesmerized by his unraveling self-control, she flitted her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Encouraged by his sharp intake of air, she engulfed him and licked and sucked like he was the most delicious candy cane ever.

“Oh, shit!” Jack groaned and twirled a tendril between his fingers. If he allowed her to continue her deliberate torture, he would explode before he even had a chance to taste her. He grabbed her chin, and she released him, albeit grudgingly. His mind associated the golden sheen on the tip of her nose and around her swollen lips with the word ‘cute’ but her blazing eyes transformed in into ‘wanton’.

Jack’s brain short-circuited. He hauled her up against him and crushed her mouth with his. In a whirlwind of passion, hands and lips flew over her heated skin and branded her. The intoxicating melody of her irregular breathing and her hips grinding against his hardness spurred him on to remove the last barrier between them.

“God,” he gasped between kisses, “you’re,… beautiful.” Even a goddess paled in comparison to Samantha Carter, who sent with ease every single drop of Jack’s blood southward.

Together, they staggered back, collided with the table—raised a cloud of orange-blue dust in the process—and tumbled down onto the chair, never once breaking their entanglement.

Jack pulled her onto his lap and latched first onto one nipple then the other. Meanwhile, his impatient fingers disappeared between her legs and probed her. Wet and ready. “Saaaam,” he breathed his plea against her skin and rubbed her bundle of nerves.

Her pleased moan vibrated through her, and she rocked against him, increasing the friction. She could stay like this forever-in Jack’s embrace, his lips hot on her flesh, stimulating her in all the right places.

Whereas Jack held onto his last shred of sanity. “Sam, please,” he repeated. His neglected member begged to be included in the action.

Sam raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his head back. Staring into his passion-clouded eyes, she scooted closer and rubbed against his length, her slippery folds coating him. “Like this?”

Jack squeezed her buttocks, nudging her to end her teasing and take him in. In vain. She didn’t obey and mocked him with the quirk of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re evil.”

Sam leaned in and captured him in a slow kiss. Her tongue mimicked the motion his body craved. When the tingle in her core wasn’t enough anymore, she positioned herself over his erection and sank down.

In rapture, Jack’s hips thrust upward on their own, and his world shrank to an infinitesimal point. Her heated breath filled his lungs, her reverent touch set his skin on fire, her soft sighs of satisfaction tickled his ears, and her quivering muscles massaged his ego.

Had Sam known that a purred ‘sir’ would be his undoing at that moment, she would have relished in that power. Since she didn’t, she took him apart with her intense lust.

Together, they established a fervent rhythm that rearranged the particles underneath their sweaty skin, and the colors flowed across them. As they raced toward their climax, they created a new pattern, unique and yet familiar, that highlighted their strengths and masked their flaws. Once the final shapes and figures had etched themselves into their flesh, they shattered in a glorious fireball of ecstasy.

Blissful seconds passed before Sam’s tense body relaxed and slumped against his frame. Her eyes fluttered open, and she panted, “What just happened?”

Well, that was a loaded question, wasn’t it? For years, they had held back and kept up the appearance of the dutiful soldiers, superior and subordinate, denying themselves. Whatever magic was involved in the ritual, it had allowed them to open the door to a room full of unimaginable possibilities, a place where they were just Sam and Jack, nothing else.

Remarkable. But what now?

“Merry Christmas?” Jack quipped.

Sam slapped his upper arm, although the corners of her mouth curled up.

“Ouch!” Jack yelped in feigned hurt and rubbed the spot, but his expression mirrored hers, and his thumb caressed a patch below her ribs. “I’m not sure, Sam.” He pecked her temple and promised, “But when we get ho-”

The majestic sound of the trumpets interrupted and signaled the approaching end.

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed at the same time as Sam jumped up and collected her clothes. In a hurry, they dressed and made themselves presentable, at least sort of.

“What about the patterns?” Sam asked in horror as she realized the weird circles on Jack’s chest. “They look nowhere near as they should!”

Panic rose and shifted the mood in the room.

“Damn! You’re right.” Jack picked up the silver can and retouched some lines, but it was too late. The door unbolted, and a guardian appeared who escorted them to the main chamber in the temple.

There, Daniel and Teal’c already waited for them. As they neared, Daniel frowned, and Teal’c canted his head.

The silent question of ‘what the hell is that?’ bombarded them. Sam worried her bottom lip between her teeth and averted her gaze. Suddenly, the crack in one column fascinated her, whereas Jack resisted the urge to wipe away a telltale smudge at Sam’s cheekbone and shrugged in nonchalance. “I’m a soldier, not an artist.” It was lame and childish, yet safer than outright confessing what they had done, even to their friends.

“Jack, a six-year-old could have done better than… than,” Daniel gesticulated to the poor job, “than this!”

“Indeed,” Teal’c agreed.

“Hey-” Jack’s retort was cut short as the high priest entered and demanded silence with his outstretched arms.

First, he inspected Daniel and Teal’c. Impressed by the accuracy and artistry, he muttered his approval under his breath. In contrast to that stood his reaction as he scrutinized Sam and Jack. He creased his forehead and retraced the pattern in the air with flowing hands until a sly smile spread over his face. “Well done,” he announced. “The result pleases the spirits.”

Not only them, right?


End file.
